


By Starlight

by Huffleporg



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Inspired by Princess Diaries, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huffleporg/pseuds/Huffleporg
Summary: Princess Lessons and Astronomy were two classes Emma Swan had not planned to take, but these days surprises are far too common in her life.





	1. The Dowager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for clicking on this fic that I have been working hard on since October-November 2017! Hard to believe that I'm finally at the point of posting it!
> 
> Some words of caution about this fic: characters have died in the past in this fic, including one of the main characters of the show. Their deaths are not depicted, merely discussed as having happened prior to the start of the story.  
> Any other little warnings I shall give as the chapters go along!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> -Huffleporg

It felt like the alarm went off earlier and earlier each day, and each day it was easier and easier to hit the snooze button. Emma stared at the red digits through a curtain of tangled blonde hair and swore. She had been sure that she had only hit snooze once, but already it had turned 6:50. 

Emma pushed herself up slowly. “Another day,” she mumbled, as she reached for her thick glasses on her bedside table. “Another potential disaster.” She threw the covers off and slunk out of bed and to the closet. She grabbed the first flannel shirt her hand made contact with and tugged a pair of used blue jeans out from under a sleeping tabby cat. “Sorry, Henry,” she said, giving the now disgruntled cat a pat. “Got a social studies presentation today. Need all the help I can get.” She wasn’t superstitious, at least, but if the jeans she wore when she had passed the driving test _and_ when she had gotten that “A” on her Bio final last year could help, she was going to wear them. 

Taking the rest of the clothes she would need with her, Emma hurried into the bathroom to quickly change. After a less than a minute of undressing and putting on her clothes, she ran a comb through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. She gave her reflection in the mirror only the briefest of glances before saying, “Good as it’s gonna get,” and turning around to leave the bathroom. On her way out of her room, she grabbed her red backpack from her desk chair. 

Walking into the kitchen, Emma saw her father’s back at the stove. “No time for pancakes!” she said, opening the cabinet. She took a silver wrapped pair of pop-tarts out of the box. “Got to run.” She rushed over to give her father a goodbye kiss, only to find him staring disapprovingly at her choice of breakfast.

“I’d really you’d rather have something proper to eat,” David Swan said. “If not pancakes, how about cereal.” He went over to the cabinet to where the boxes of cereal were kept.

Emma shook her head. “I’ve got to meet Elsa. I’m already running late.” She knew that Elsa and Anna wouldn’t mind her being a couple of minutes late for their carpool, but Killian Jones was another story entirely. 

Defeated, David took a banana from the fruit bowl and handed it to his daughter. “To put my mind at ease that you’ll at least have something healthy.”

Emma rolled her eyes but took the banana from her father. “Fine. Bye,” she said, starting to head to the front door. 

“Don’t forget,” called out David after his daughter, “your grandmother wants you to go and see her after school.”

“Step-grandmother,” corrected Emma, popping her head back into the kitchen. She wasn’t even sure if she ought to call Regina that. In the past seventeen years, Emma doubted that she had even seen the woman seventeen times, and on none of those occasions had she behaved the way a grandmother - step or not - ought to. As far as Emma was concerned, she had one grandmother - Grandma Ruth - and one stranger who had married her grandfather, who was also very much a stranger to Emma. “Did she say what she wanted?” 

David went back to mixing pancake batter. “I didn’t ask. But she’s family, and she wants to see you.”

Emma let out a sigh and fiddled with the tightening strap of her backpack. “Fine.” She didn’t really have time to argue with her father.

“And be nice,” he added with a sigh. “She just lost her husband.”

Emma glanced up at her father, suddenly getting why her father was suddenly so sympathetic to a woman he otherwise considered odious. Though Emma saw no similarities between her father and step-grandmother, she could see how her father might somehow feel that Regina’s situation was like the one he had been in sixteen years ago. Unexpectedly without a spouse. Alone and grief-stricken. The comparisons could be drawn, Emma admitted. But her mother’s car accident at the age of twenty-six leaving behind a baby and loving husband hardly seemed equal in tragedy as her grandfather dropping dead from a heart attack at seventy-seven. 

“Okay,” she said, offering her father a reassuring smile. “I’ll be good.” 

The father and daughter exchanged parting nods before she opened the door. As quickly as possible in combat boots, Emma ran down the three flights of stairs and out into the mid-September day. She ran to Elsa’s blue prius, not bothering to check her watch to see just how late she was. 

As she opened the car door, she was greeted simultaneously with a, “Morning!” from Elsa and Anna, and a, “Finally” from Killian. Emma said, “Sorry I’m late,” and slid into the backseat across from Killian.

“No worries, we’ll be right on time!” said Elsa, starting to back the car up out of its parking space. 

“Unless the construction on Fifth Street is still going on,” countered Killian, looking up from his copy of _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ to give Emma an annoyed look.

“Ignore Mr. Grumpy,” suggested Anna brightly from the front passenger seat, as she finished applying her lip gloss. 

Emma let out a laugh and said, “Oh, I do.” She gave Killian a smirk before buckling her belt, glad that she could sit and not hurry for the next twenty minutes. Of course, Killian had already gone back to reading his book, so he completely missed her look. While some people in the minutes before the school day might trying to skim over pages they should have read the night before, Emma knew Killian well enough to be confident that this was a book he was reading for his own enjoyment. No doubt whatever book the seniors were reading in Honors English was one that he had read years before. 

Realizing that she had been staring at Killian for several minutes lost in thought, Emma looked to the front of the car, trying to catch up to the conversation the two sisters were engaged in.

“--And I know it’s fast,” Anna was saying, cheeks turning pink, “but he wants to meet mom and dad.” She let out a sigh and leaned back against the back of her seat. “Oh, Elsa, I really do think I’m in love with Hans.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. It wasn’t surprising that Anna, the girl who watched romantic comedies almost exclusively, had found someone to fall in love with less than two weeks after starting high school. What was so surprising was the person Anna had become enamored with. 

Without even taking her eyes off the road, “You can’t be in love with someone you just met,” said Elsa matter-of-factly. She turned into the school parking lot and began to search for an empty spot.

Nodding in agreement, Emma leaned forward and said, “You don’t really know each other yet.” Emma barely knew the senior, and _she_ couldn’t stand him. Emma struggled to understand how Anna could not see beyond the boy's charming exterior to realize that everything underneath it was all just an act.

Unexpectedly from the backseat, “Hans is a cad and swarmy worm. You deserve better,” said Killian, putting his book away.

Emma turned to glance over at the person she had thought was even less aware of the conversation the sisters were having than she was, surprised that he was even offering an opinion, much less support of Anna. Emma supposed that years of being neighbors and a year and a half of carpooling two and from school with her sister might have made Killian feel protective of Anna, but she hadn’t even thought before today that he cared much for the talkative girl.

The car slowed as Elsa pulled into a parking spot. 

There was a click of belts being unbuckled, and Anna practically leapt out of the car, cheeks burning before dashing off towards the building.

 

“And look,” said Elsa with a sigh, “Hans is waiting for her.” She shook her head and got out of the car. “I don’t like him at all.”

Emma and Killian followed suit stepping out of the car. “He’ll show his true colors eventually,” said Emma softly, “and you’ll be there for Anna with hot cocoa. I’ll bring the cinnamon.” She didn’t understand how people could drink hot chocolate without cinnamon. It seemed so completely bland to her. 

The three started to walk to the school building.

“Oh, Elsa, before I forget,” said Emma, “Regina’s in town, and she wants to see me, so don’t wait around for me after school.” She knew that her step-grandmother would be sending a chauffeur to pick her up, like she always did. 

Elsa gave Emma a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Text me when you get back home.” As they entered the building, Elsa caught sight of the clock on the wall. “See,” she said turning to Killian with a teasing smile, “eight minutes to spare. Told you I’d get us here on time.” She gave Emma and Killian a wave before heading to Physics on the second floor.

Before Emma could part ways with Killian and go to her locker, he said softly, “So… what’s so fascinating about me this morning that you couldn’t stop looking at me.”

Emma faced him, annoyed to see his smug expression. She folded her arms. “I wasn’t looking at you. I was looking through you while thinking about my presentation. Sorry. Next time I have to stare off into space, I’ll make sure my gaze isn’t directed anywhere near you.” She could feel the back of her neck growing hot, but she wasn’t about to let Killian think that she had been staring at him and thinking about him. That would only go to his head.

“Oh, I’m gutted, Swan.” He clutched his hand to his heart dramatically. “Completely and utterly gutted.” 

“You’ll live,” muttered Emma, turning away from him to head to class. She didn’t have time to deal with Killian and his antics, and she was fairly sure that he had better things to do than annoy her. As she turned the corner, she quickly glanced over to see Killian’s retreating form. She bit her lip. She didn’t have time for this.

***

The nausea still hadn’t abated by the time that the black Lincoln Town car pulled up in front of the student pick-up area at three, drawing a few stares and murmurs from her school mates. Even during prom season, limos of any variety were a very rare sight in Storybrooke. For the second time today, embarrassment washed over Emma. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have gotten sick while trying to give her presentation, a black limo complete with magnetic little flags saying “diplomat” had to pick her up barely over an hour later. Not wanting to stand around on the curb hearing people’s confusion and speculation in the background for a minute longer, Emma threw open the door and climbed inside, cheeks burning red.

“Good afternoon, Emma,” said the man in the front seat.

“Hey Robin,” she said to her step-grandmother’s personal assistant. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a chauffeur.” All the other times that her grandmother had had her get picked up, a professional driver had been the one to do it.

“Your grandmother wanted me to drive you myself,” explained Robin, looking at Emma’s reflection in the rearview mirror. 

“Huh. Cool,” she said, not really all that interested. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the back of the front seats. “Say, do you have any gum?” The water from the fountain at school wasn’t going to cut it when it came to washing the taste of her failure out of her mouth.

Robin opened the glove compartment and rifled around for a few seconds. “Best I can do is a mint.” He held out the red and white striped peppermint to Emma.

“It’ll do,” she said, taking it from Robin’s hand. Emma leaned back in her seat and began to unwrap the candy. As the limo started to pull away from the curb, Emma popped the mint in her mouth. The school began to vanish from sight, obscured pine trees.

The next half-hour passed largely in silence, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on Emma’s part. Every question she asked Robin was answered with only a few words or a nod. Only when she asked if he could turn the radio on did she get an actual answer - he disliked American music. If she had been traveling to any destination other than a visit with her step-grandmother, Emma might have been relieved when they pulled up in front of the fancy, gated building in Portland perched up on a hill, but instead, Emma was ready to get back in the car and endure another half-hour with Robin.

Regardless, Emma got out of the limo and followed Robin down the entry way and into the elevators to the top floor of the building. As the elevator ascended several floors, Emma fiddled with the button the sleeve of her shirt, looking down at her scuffed boots. In a building where everything was gilded, it was hard not to feel shabby, even in the elevator.

At the top floor, she let Robin show her to Regina’s suite, even though there was only one suite on the whole floor. She had found that out the last time she had been brought to see Regina. Before Robin and Emma reached the large red door, it swung open, revealing a smartly dressed man in black. As they entered the suite passing by the man, Emma caught sight of a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. Before she could ask just who the man was, she was already being ushered into another room with a large window looking out over the city. 

“Your grandmother will be in in a minute,” a voice said.

Emma turned around to see a thin man with salt and pepper hair sitting at a desk. 

The man got to her feet and walked over. “I’m Sydney Glass,” he said. “Your grandmother’s personal assistant.”

The teenager blinked. “I thought Robin was her personal assistant,” she said, glancing around the lavishly decorated room to see that Robin had vanished.

Sydney let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No, that’s my job. I’ve been her assistant for years. I’m sorry we’ve never met before, Emma.” He offered her hand. “Truly an honor.”

“Thanks?” Emma said, cautiously reaching out to shake the stranger’s hand. “So that makes Robin…”

“Her bodyguard.”

Instantly, Emma’s eyebrows rose. Before she could ask Sydney if she was pulling her leg, she caught sight of Regina standing in the doorway that led deeper into the suite. 

“Emma.”

Emma hated how Regina said her name, annunciating every syllable, dwelling over her name. “Grandmother,” she said, barely managing a smile. “Been a while.” She laced her hands together awkwardly. “Um… like… two years?” She dragged her boot against the floor, desperately trying to think of what she should say. Should she comment on Regina’s pant suit? No, that would probably spark either a long discussion about some designer Emma had never heard of or else prompt Regina to comment on Emma’s own choice of wardrobe. Anything involving clothing was not a safe subject. The weather? No, that would only cause Regina to wax poetic about how beautiful it was in Misthaven this time of year - it was supposedly beautiful in Misthaven no matter what time of year it was, according to Regina - and how terrible it always was in Maine. That would just be annoying to hear again.

“Yes, it has been a while, hasn’t it,” said Regina, coming into the room properly. She held herself high and strode gracefully over to a table set out in the middle of the room with a white, lace tablecloth. She smiled at Emma. “You’ve grown. Almost a woman.” 

Not sure if she ought to join her step-grandmother at the table, Emma stood where she had been by the window. “Umm… well I turn seventeen in October.”

Sydney felt no such hesitation and went over to pull the chair out for Regina to sit in.

“October 23rd,” Regina said. “Just a few weeks away.” She sat down and glanced at her step-granddaughter as Sydney scuttled away out of the room. “Surprised I remember?”

Did the woman want an honest answer? “The birthday card did come a little late last year,” she said, “but no… I guess not.” It wasn’t like she was always on top of making sure things were in by the deadline. She had submitted far too many papers after the day it was due for anyone to think that she was punctual when it came to work.

“I was there when you were born,” continued Regina. “Well not in the room. But I was there. Met you when you were less than an hour old.” 

Emma frowned and took a couple of steps closer to the table in the center of the room. It had been years since she had asked her father about the day she had been born, and what she remembered from the story - a young husband and wife so happy to be becoming parents, and her so eager to meet them that she hadn’t waited for the hospital - didn’t feature her step-grandmother coming in.

“You were actually born in Misthaven. Did you know that?” 

“Um, yeah, actually,” she said. “To get my driver’s license I needed my birth certificate.” She had known before then, though she couldn’t remember her father ever actually telling her about it. It had just been something she had always known. A good part of the first year of her life had been spent in Misthaven, the country where her mother had grown up. 

For a fraction of a second, Regina looked disappointed, but before Emma could ask why she was mentioning all this now, Sydney returned to the room, pushing an antique tea cart. 

As Sydney set the teapot and teacups on the table, Regina said, “Do sit down, Emma. And please avoid scuffing up the floor with your boots.” It came out almost as a sigh.

Emma didn’t wait for Sydney to pull the chair out for her. She interrupted the man as he reached to take the chair out and help her sit down, the way he had helped Regina. She sat down and scooted the chair forward. The resulting scrape was enough to make her step-grandmother wince.

Sydney started to pour tea for the both of them. 

“None for me,” said Emma, putting her hand over the cup that was clearly meant for her.

“You don’t have to drink it, Emma,” said Regina with a patient smile, “but it’s polite to accept it.”

Emma took her hand back, and Sydney finished pouring the tea. Emma accepted the cup that the personal assistant offered her, wishing it were coffee. 

His task done, Sydney left the room.

Regina picked up the cup and brought it to her lips. She sipped almost soundlessly.

Emma swirled the tea in her cup. 

“You look quite like your mother, you know,” said Regina suddenly.

Emma looked up. “I’ve been told.” Though her coloring took after her father, from the pictures she had seen of her mother, she was a dead ringer for her.

“How much do you know about your mother, Emma?”

“She met my dad in college. She was studying Environmental and Political Sciences. She came from Misthaven. She and my dad got married shortly after graduation,” Emma said, not sure what Regina was getting at.

“So you know about her life as far as it concerned your father.”

“I guess.”

“How much do you know about her childhood? About her family? Your family.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Emma said, “Not all that much?” Her voice raised a little high, uncertainty creeping in. “Her mother died when she was still in elementary school. Her father married you not long after.” Her father hadn’t exactly told her much. She had asked, but she had never really gotten any answers, and eventually she had just learned to stop asking. She knew it pained her father to talk about her mother, and she didn’t like to see him in that kind of distress. Besides, there were so many questions she wanted to ask about her mother that Emma knew her father couldn’t answer. 

“So hardly anything,” said Regina, straightening up. The smallest smirk displaced the scar on the older woman’s lip. 

Emma picked a sugar cube out of the sugar bowl and put it in her mouth. Even if sugar was supposedly the Devil when it came to health these days, Emma knew that it would be better than one of those dry, crumbling tea cakes her step-grandmother insisted on serving every time she came over.

“Would you like to learn about her?”

She made a sharp intake of breath that left her coughing. For a several dry, agonizing moments, Emma coughed, feeling her eyes watering. Seeing no other way out, she reached for the tea cup and took a sip. Though the liquid hurt going down, it was better than coughing on the sugar cube. Taking several unobstructed breaths, Emma set the cup back down on its apple blossom patterned saucer. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Yes, but…” Emma voice trailed off. Her father had told her many times before that her mother and Regina hadn’t gotten along well at all, which made Emma wonder just how accurate anything Regina said could be. Certainly anything that her father said would be closer to the truth, even if it was just a guess. 

“I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you about her,” said Regina. “You should have grown up knowing your mother.”

Emma bent her head, staring at the reddish-brown tea, suddenly finding the apple blossom and buds at the bottom of the cup much easier to look at than Regina. She had thought that herself so many times over the years, but somehow hearing Regina say it made her want to squirm. 

“It is a terrible shame that the accident took her away from us… from all of us.” Regina let out a sigh. “She was a beloved princess, and they say she would made an exceptional queen.”

Confused, Emma frowned, trying to follow Regina’s logic. She searched the older woman’s expression for some kind of hint, but finding no other explanations for Regina’s word choice, all Emma could do was ask, “Metaphorically?”

“No, Emma,” said Regina. “You should have been told years ago. Your mother was the crown princess, heir to the throne of Misthaven, a kingdom her family - _your family_ \- has ruled over for hundreds of years. A kingdom that is now rulerless.” 

Dumbfounded, Emma stared at her step-grandmother, squinting hard. There was nothing she could manage to say or do other than just gape. It was as if her brain had run full force into a white wall thirty stories tall and wide. Sheer shock immobilized her.

“Given how easy it is to find out information these days, I must admit that I am a little bit surprised you weren’t aware. All it takes is a few clicks and you have more information than anyone could ever possibly want about any topic, including your mother and her family.”

Unable to process what Regina was saying now, instead Emma spluttered, “Seriously?” 

Regina fell silent, finally giving Emma a minute to think.

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” said Emma, finding herself speaking out loud. “That my mother was a princess. Are you filming this?” She glanced around looking for cameras, her stomach suddenly turning over as a fresh wave of nausea hit her. “Is this some kind of prank?” There didn’t seem to be any cameras, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t some kind of prank going on. 

“It is the truth,” said Regina. “Your mother was a princess, the only child of King Leopold and Queen Eva. The only child of King Leopold for that matter.” 

The words were ones that Emma had learned long ago, but she struggled to find any sense in them. “I don’t,” she stammered. “That’s not-”

“Mary Margaret was supposed to take over the throne when her father died,” continued Regina, as if oblivious to her perplexed step-granddaughter, “but as you know, your mother died young, and your grandfather, my husband, had no other heir. Now that he’s gone, that leaves you.” 

Emma blinked, leaning back in her chair, “Me? Why me?”

Frustration wrinkled the woman’s unnaturally young forehead for a moment. “Because, you’re the last Blanchard.” Each word seemed to be holding back something. Anger? Annoyance? Emma was well beyond being able to tell. “You are the only princess left of Misthaven, and when you come of age, you will be our Queen.”

Slowly, Emma shook her head, mouth hanging open mutely. 

“Emma.”

“No. You’re wrong,” Emma protested.

Regina let out a shallow laugh and shook her head. “Believe me, if there were another viable option for my country, I would be having tea with them, and not you, but unfortunately, the ruler must be of royal blood.” 

“I’m not a princess.”

The dowager queen gave a small, smug smile and said, “Your ancestry disagrees.”

Without any warning, Emma could feel it coming up, bubbling to the surface. She shot up from her chair. “I am not a princess,” Emma repeated. “Either you’re delusional, or you’ve got a sick sense of humor. And I don’t want any part of that.” She took a step backwards, knocking over her chair. As it clattered to the floor and Regina flinched, Emma saw her chance. She ran.

The entry room was a blur of gold and confusion as she hurried out. She threw all of her weight against the heavy doors leading out of the suite, ignoring the shouts behind her. She was past the point of caring. Knowing better than to wait for the elevator allowing herself to get stopped by one of those men in suits and be dragged, Emma headed straight for the stairs. She dashed down several steps at a time, her footsteps echoing loudly in the stairwell. A couple of clatter-filled minutes later, and Emma was opening the door to the atrium and Italian marble floors. She hurried past the front desk. The revolving door slowed down her escape, but only for a moment. 

Breaking out into the cooling evening air, Emma started running again. She couldn’t run all the way home, she knew, but if she put in enough distance between herself and this insanity, she could call Elsa. Elsa would come and find her, wherever she was. After dashing through several city blocks and crossing a couple of streets after barely looking to see if any cars were approaching, Emma began to feel the sharp grab at her side. “Fuck,” she wheezed, slowing her sprint down to a slow limp. She had no idea how far or how fast she had run, but she was fairly sure that it was further and faster than any gym teacher had ever been able to convince her to go. 

She rubbed her side and took a few deep breaths, glancing around. When she spotted the bench at the bus shelter, Emma walked over, wincing as she went. She sat down heavily on the blue metal mesh bench and pulled out her phone from her flannel’s front pocket. With a few clicks, she brought up Elsa’s contact info. “Come on Elsa,” she murmured as the phone rang. “Pick up.” Uncharacteristically, the phone kept ringing until finally, “ _I’m sorry that I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, I’ll get back to you shortly!_ ” played.

Without any hesitation, Emma redialed Elsa, only again to find the same pre-recorded message instead of her friend. “Elsa, where are you?” she whispered. Usually, Elsa was the sort of person who picked up immediately. Even though only a handful of people had her number and she was rarely contacted on her phone by those select few, Elsa rarely left texts unanswered for longer than a couple of minutes or let the phone ring for long. 

_Call me ASAP_ Emma texted. _I need your help._

When she looked up from her phone, she jumped a little. Parked right where a city bus should have been was a black limo, driver’s window rolled down to reveal a bearded face peering out at her through black sunglasses.

“You followed me,” said Emma accusatorily.

“I protect the royal family of Misthaven,” Robin said. “Following you is part of my job now.” He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “And you forgot your bag.”

Emma got to her feet, wincing as her side protested. She walked slowly to the curb. “Look, I’ve had enough about this royal thing,” she said. “I’m not going back there. And I don’t want to hear anything about princesses or kings or--”

“Please,” Robin interrupted, holding out his hand. “I’m not going to take you back to the Queen. I’m here to take you home.” 

Tucking her chin down to better stare through Robin’s sunglasses, Emma frowned. His face was honest. It didn’t look like he was lying to her, but Emma had been wrong before. “If you make the turn to go to her instead of to the highway, I’m calling 9-1-1 to report my kidnapping,” Emma said after several moments of considering Robin’s expression. “In fact-” she brought up the dial pad on her phone and pressed nine before showing it to him, “just a precaution.”

Robin blinked. “Do I look like a kidnapper?”

“I could see your face on a wanted poster,” Emma said simply before opening the front passenger door.

“Princess-”

Emma held up a hand. “I don’t want any of that. No ‘Princess’, no ‘your Majesty’, no--”

“Your Highness is the appropriate term for a princess.”

“Really? What did I just say?” Emma glowered at her step-grandmother’s body guard. “It’s Emma. Just Emma.” Whatever titles her step-grandmother and her minions insisted that she had, Emma knew that none of them applied to her. American girls in combat boots and thick glasses didn’t come with titles. Titles of books they needed to read for English class or maybe titles of term papers that were a few days overdue, but nothing akin to “Princess.” 

“Of course,” he said, pausing, “Emma.”

Emma wished she had the energy to offer him a smile in gratitude for giving her this much and for helping her, but all she could manage was a small nod as she climbed into the front seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was originally meant to be a CS Big Bang fic, but I withdrew, which means that I can post this fic a little bit sooner than I thought I would be able to! I do have to thank the CSBB community for helping me with this fic, whether it was sprinting to write it, or coming up with suggestions, or encouraging me to write it at all. A huge shout out goes to the mods of the CSBB who worked with me, even if ultimately it didn't work out.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, especially the author's notes. Please let me know what you think!


	2. Up the Trellis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeking the advice of a friend, Emma finds help in an unexpected place.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” protested Emma as Robin got out of the car. 

“I insist,” Robin firmly replied.

She grabbed her backpack from the car floor and slung a strap over her shoulder. “I’m safe.” She gestured at the street lined with small apartment buildings, duplexes, and a tiny parking lot. Even after dark, it still looked perfectly safe to her in the orange glow of the streetlamps. “Nothing ever happens in Storybrooke. And it’s like twenty feet between us and the door.” She pointed to the front door of the Swan residence - the second floor of a split Victorian home. “Okay, well, like twenty feet and then fifteen vertical feet, I guess.” She knew that she ought to be able to mentally calculate exactly what the hypotenuse of that triangle was, but the thought of even doing something she had learned in middle school pre-algebra drained her. At the very least, she thought to herself, since it was the weekend, she wouldn’t have to try to do the hours of homework that would have been ahead of her on any school night. There no way whatsoever that she would have been able to manage that. 

Despite her exhaustion, Emma practically dashed up the tight spiral staircase to her home, leaving Robin down at the bottom. Blindly, she fumbled around in her bag for the key, giving Robin time to join her on the landing. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. As she stepped into the dark apartment, she was greeted with the familiar bark of Wilby. “Hey, Wilbs,” she said.

Following her into the apartment, Robin removed his sunglasses. “Where is your father?”

“It’s Friday,” said Emma, switching the lights on. “He works late at the clinic.” She paused and added, “He’s a vet.”

Robin nodded. “I am aware.” He glanced down at the dog, as if unsure what to do. Wilby surveyed the man with equal doubt, sniffing the air. 

“So, this is it,” Emma said gesturing around. “I’m home. You can go back to Regina and tell her I made it back safely.” Perhaps it was rude of her, but at this point, Emma didn’t exactly care. She needed to talk to Elsa. She needed her friend more than she needed a babysitter from her step-grandmother. 

Robin gave entryway another look before gazing down further into the kitchen. After a moment of consideration, he finally said, “Have a good evening, Emma,” and headed back to the front door.

“Bye!” Emma said, only waiting for Robin to get to the second step down before shutting the door behind him. Pulling her phone out of her jeans pocket and redialing her best friend, Emma whispered, “Pick up this time, Elsa.” The phone finally started to actually ring on the other end. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she breathed as the phone began to ring. “Pick up.” 

Yet again, her call went to voicemail.

Emma bit the inside of her lip. “It’s not like her, Wilby,” she said. She stroked the dog’s head, her own forehead wrinkling.

Wilby tilted his head.

“Maybe she left her phone at school…” That was something that maybe Anna would do, but Emma supposed that it could happen to anyone, even someone as conscientious as Elsa. “Maybe…” She needed to talk to someone. Too many thoughts were swimming around in her head, too many questions that she needed to ask. Even if Elsa couldn’t really answer any of those, at least she could listen. At least she could advise. Elsa always gave better advice than than anyone else Emma knew, and at least she wouldn’t feel alone surrounded by a setting that reminded her that she had spent her whole life oblivious to something this tremendous. At least she could rant and figure out who she was more mad at: her step-grandmother or her father. 

She strode over to the window that looked out onto the street. In the lamplight, she saw no trace of the limo or Robin. Emma sprung into action, grabbing her key and checking to make sure that both her phone was on her and that the doggy door was still open for Wilby. As she left the apartment, Emma shouted a quick, “Bye!” to Wilby before running down the stairs. She jaywalked across the street, knowing that in Storybrooke she didn’t have to bother looking out for a coming car. 

Approaching Elsa’s house, Emma frowned. The entire front was dark. Not even the kitchen was illuminated tonight at a time Emma knew Mrs. Arendelle would normally have been making dinner. Puzzled, Emma cut through the small side garden to get to the backyard. She looked up at the black window that should have revealed her friend sitting at her desk, working hard on her homework for the next week. Not even the room next to hers was lit up.

“They’re out, you know,” came a voice from above her.

Emma jumped. Heart pounding, she turned around to peer over at the neighbor’s house. “Killian?” she said. Despite the night making his facial features difficult to see clearly, Emma knew that voice anywhere. Though it was no longer the same treble pitches as when they had first met, she immediately recognized it as Killian Jones. She hadn’t needed to turn around or for him to stand up out of the shadows and lean on the balcony railing to know it. “What are you doing on the Greene’s balcony?” Emma asked. “I thought you lived in the cinderblock apartments down there.” She pointed in the direction she had seen him walk from on the rare occasions she had beat him to meet up with Elsa or in years prior when it had been the bus stop.

“The Greenes let me use their balcony for my telescope,” said Killian, getting up and walking to where Emma could better see him in the stray streetlight. “Season permitting.” 

Emma looked past Killian to see that there was, in fact, a telescope and table littered with several books and papers beside the lawn chair where he had been sitting. 

“I try to come out here as often as I can,” Killian went on. “Can’t do it every weekend since there’s homework, and sometimes I have to help Liam out at the bar, but yeah… They’ve been really awesome for years letting me use their balcony. I think they kind of feel…” His voice grew softer until he stopped. He shook his head and changed his verbal train of thought. “Mrs. Greene used to babysit me.”

The explanation didn’t seem like a lie, and Killian Jones had never lied to her before. The only part that was hard to believe was that Mr. Jones had ever bothered the find a babysitter for his son. Knowing Mrs. Greene, however, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if she had appointed herself babysitter of the youngest Jones boy. “That’s very nice of them,” Emma said. Her own troubles were making it hard to have an actual conversation about something as normal as hobbies and homework. She had to try though. She couldn’t let herself fall to pieces. Not in front of Killian Jones of all people.

“I don’t know when the Arendelles are coming back home,” Killian said after almost a minute of silence passed between the two of them. “But if you wanted to come up to wait, I don’t mind company.” At Emma’s questioning look, he added, “You can climb up the trellis. Cliche, I know. But this one is actually strong enough to bear weight. At least, if I can make it up here, you definitely can.”

Emma glanced at the trellis laced with the fading memories of summer clematis. It hardly looked like the most stable structure, but between Killian’s assurance that it wasn’t as flimsy as it looked and the anxiety that rose in her chest at the thought of going back home where she would be alone with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t want to untangle without help, Emma found herself crossing over the low boxwood hedge that separated the Arendelle’s lawn from the Greene’s. “If this collapses on me,” Emma stressed as she placed a hand on a rung about level with her shoulders, “I’m counting on you to get an ambulance.” Cautiously, she set her foot down on the trellis. Finding no signs of it giving way, she raised her other foot up, so her whole weight was now supported by the whitewashed structure. 

She forced herself to trust the pseudo-ladder and made her way to the balcony’s railing. Seeing a hand outstretched towards her, Emma lifted her eyes up to meet Killian’s ocean blue ones. In spite of herself, she smiled briefly and took his hand, allowing him to help pull her up onto the balcony. “Thank you,” Emma said, brushing the chipped paint and dirt from her hands onto her jeans. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said, returning her brief smile. “There’s a great view of Mars tonight. Want to see it?” 

Not knowing what else to do, Emma shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.” She had seen pictures of the red planet in books and on the internet, and she doubted that anything that could be seen through Killian’s telescope would compare to pictures that had been taken by satellites or robots on the ground. But, it was something to do. It would pass the time until she could talk to Elsa. 

Killian returned to sit in the folding lawn chair with interwoven red and white cloth strips. He pressed his face back against the eyepiece. As he adjusted a few knobs, Emma shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She stared out over the treetops towards the distant hills and then down to the small collection of lights that made up Storybrooke’s town center. Her father was there. Had he known what Regina was going to say? He must have at least suspected it. He could have prepared her. He should have told her in the first place. Fresh anger burned inside Emma. 

“Are you okay?”

Emma started, Killian’s voice dragging her back to the present and away from the storm inside her mind. “What?” she managed, turning to see him looking up at her instead of peering into his telescope.

“You just seem… not you,” said Killian. 

“I’m fine,” lied Emma. She stuck her hands into her back pockets. “Just fine.” She cast her gaze upwards towards the flickering stars. 

“For someone who insists they’re fine, you’re awfully quiet,” Killian said. “The Emma Swan I know would have given me some shit by now about how dorky it is to be doing this on a Friday night.” 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma sucked in her breath. Normally, she would have just laughed off what he was saying, but the dizzying confusion and bitter anger made her ruefully say, “Maybe you don’t know Emma Swan.” If she didn’t know something as big about herself as the fact that she was a princess, she couldn’t see how anyone else could possibly say that they knew her. “I’m really not sure about her anymore.” Despite the darkness, Emma could see a worried frown creasing Killian’s face.

“Is that why you were looking for Elsa?” he finally asked softly.

Wordlessly Emma nodded. 

“I’m sorry.”

Emma blinked. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“I’m sorry that instead of Elsa, you’re stuck with me,” he clarified. 

With a sigh, Emma said, “Murphy’s law. That’s what it is.”

“Oh come on, the worst possible thing will happen at the worst possible time?” Killian gave her a playful smile. “I can’t possibly be the worst thing.”

She shook her head once. “You really don’t factor in. You just happen to be here. And everything else is just…” She held up her hands in front of her before drawing them apart, making the sound of an explosion.

“Is this because of what happened during your presentation?”

Had that really been today? How had she been so upset and embarrassed about having to run out of the classroom because she had gotten too nervous to actually give her presentation while everyone had whispered and snickered? Compared to everything that had happened with her step-grandmother, that all seemed too small to even be worth being bothered about. 

“Because you know,” continued Killian, “I don’t think anyone’s going to be talking about it on Monday. Everyone’s had those days, and I guartunee you were not the only one there who’s gotten nauseous before giving a--”

“It’s not that,” interrupted Emma. “No. That’s… that was just awkward… but I don’t really care about that. It’s not important.” How could she possibly think about school at a time like this? That was something that normal people were allowed to care about, but thanks to Regina, that was something she didn’t know she qualified as. “It’s just… have you ever… I’ve spent my whole life thinking one thing and thinking I knew who I was and now suddenly… someone’s just come in and told me all that is a lie.” She clasped her hands together in front of her, nervously running her right thumb over her left, trying to find a way to convey just how lost she felt. “And now, I just don’t know what to do. What to think. I don’t think I…” She groaned and leaned against the glass door into the Greene’s home. “I woke up this morning, feeling about as sure as anyone our age is about themselves, and now that’s all out the window. Someone just Humpty Dumpty’d my life. And I was set up for that by someone I thought I could…” She swallowed, fighting the urge to scream. 

Throughout her ramblings as she broke off and started up again, stumbling over her words, Killian just sat, listening. His eyes were fixed on Emma, face set in a concerned frown. He leaned towards her. “I know what that’s like,” he said softly after Emma had fallen into silence. 

For the first time since she had started letting go, Emma remembered just who she was talking to. “Oh, right…” She looked away from him, remembering the pictures that had graced the front page of local newspapers and the footage that had played repeatedly on the news - Brennan Jones being forcefully led away between two policemen, holding his cuffed hands up trying to shield his face from the onlookers and their cameras, while his sons had stared on, dumbfounded. They had all blurred Killian’s face to shield the minor’s identity, but the completely recognizable face of the of age eldest son of the criminal had made the ‘courtesy’ completely ridiculous. “I forgot.”

“It was years ago,” murmured Killian, looking back to his telescope. He drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the plastic chair. “And I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if there’s one thing I can offer, it’s certainty that you’ll get through it, Emma.” He turned back to her. “You know who you are. Don’t let anyone make you doubt that. No matter what.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Don’t I know it.” 

Before she could say anything else, Emma felt a vibration against her hip. She reached down to pull her phone out of her pocket.

“What is it?” asked Killian.

“Elsa,” Emma said, rereading the message her best friend had sent. 

_Sorry I didn’t see this sooner. Dad surprised us after school. He got tickets for us to see a show in Boston. We only just got out of the theatre._

“They’re all in Boston,” Emma murmured. The urgency to share all that had happened no longer burned in her chest. She took a breath and typed back, _Ok. Hope you had fun!_ “Evidently her dad got tickets to some show and they are all down there.” 

_I did. What were all the calls about?_

Emma’s fingers hovered over the screen. Now that the initial panic and flood of emotions had ebbed, Emma was very much aware of the fact that this wasn’t something that could be shared over a text. Even a phone call would be the wrong method of delivery of this strange news. It would all have to wait until Elsa got back, and now, Emma felt like she actually could hold on for just a little while longer.

 _Nothing,_ Emma typed. _Just something that can wait until you get back._ As the text was sent away with a bloop from the phone, Emma let out a sigh. She didn’t like lying to Elsa, especially not when the sheer number of times that she had tried to call her best friend bespoke of the fact that the events of her afternoon were anything but ‘nothing.’

Restlessly, Emma stood up. “I should go,” Emma said. “My dad’s going to be getting back any time now. He’s going to wonder where I am.” If he wasn’t there already, waiting for her. It could be hard to know just what time her father would get home the times that he worked in the evening. If an emergency came up, Emma sometimes didn’t see her father until breakfast the next morning. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” said Killian, checking his watch. He followed Emma to the side of the balcony with the trellis. “Do you need help?”

Emma regarded the drop down from the balcony to the ground below, suddenly finding her mouth dry. Why had she climbed up in the first place? Why had she looked down? That had been supremely stupid. She knew from years of climbing trees just how much more difficult it was to descend from a great height fully cognisant of how far a fall she could take. “Yes please,” she said.

“Okay, let me show you the trick,” he said before demonstrating for her just how to best hop over the rail onto the very edge of the balcony. “I’m coming back over to help you, don’t worry.” Once again, he moved fluidly over the railing, as if there was no danger or risk inherent in it. “I’m going to support you, and make sure you don’t fall.” He placed a hand on her back, offering her a reassuring smile.

Emma didn’t have time to wonder what brought her the greatest warmth - his touch or his expression. She allowed herself to be guided over the railing by Killian’s supportive grasp. On the other side, Emma held on tightly, still holding onto his arm, forgetting at the apprehension of the moments before. She watched Killian’s chest rise and fall with each breath, and she found herself falling into pace with him. Her fingers pressed against the back of his arm, no longer seeking support alone.

“Goodnight, Emma,” he said. “You’ve already done the hard part.”

Giving herself a moment to recover the ability to speak, Emma nodded. She took her hands off of Killian and placed them on the railing, allowing her foot to find the top rung of the trellis. With each step downward, Emma began to feel the weight of all that had happened today returning to her shoulders, pressing her down. From the ground, she looked up at Killian, still watching her from above. “Night,” she murmured before turning around and skirting off home.

The darkness of their second floor apartment was enough for Emma to know that she had beat her father home, again. Still, she called out to him, as if Wilby’s barks wouldn’t have alerted him to the fact that she was back home. 

Her stomach let out a low grumble. She walked to the kitchen, Wilby following dutifully along, and opened the fridge. She considered the odd assortment of leftovers for a moment, before finally settling on some chicken from two nights ago. As she watched the plate of food rotate in the yellow light of the microwave, the door opened. Ignoring the ding that announced her dinner was ready, Emma strode from the kitchen back to the hall she had left minutes before. Each footstep seemed to shout at the man who had been lying to her for the past sixteen years.

In the entryway, Emma glowered at her father angrily. “Princess? Seriously?” she spat out.

“I take it she told you,” David said softly, not cowering under his daughter’s furious stare. 

Emma’s rage did not cloud her eyes enough to miss the note of surprise in her father’s voice. “Why didn’t _you_ tell me?” she demanded.

David set down his keys on the hall table and took off his jacket before he spoke again. “I wanted to be the one to. I had told her that, but Regina… she has her own way of doing these things. I insisted that I should break the news, and she agreed, told me she would let me…” He gave a very heavy sigh and shook his head, regret clouding his eyes. “She never has cared...” he stroked his chin as he shook his head, his voice trailing off. “It seems that we have a lot to talk about.” 

Emma folded her arms. “No shit.” 

The guilty silence that followed instead of a reprimand weighed down on Emma, but not nearly as much as everything that she now knew her father had been hiding from her her whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! I hoped you enjoyed it and didn't mind me taking some license with Emma. At sixteen, she hasn't quite figured out how to punch back yet, but it wouldn't be much of a story if she already knew how.


	3. Long Overdue

Emma had waited until the hot chocolate was poured, the whipped cream sprayed, and the cinnamon sprinkled before she pushed herself off of the kitchen counter. She pulled her usual chair out with a loud scrape against the tile floor and sat down opposite her father. 

David slid the mug of hot chocolate across the table to his daughter wordlessly. It seemed to Emma that even after ten minutes of silence, her father still needed time to think of just what to say. Biding her time, Emma wrapped her fingers around the mug, feeling the warmth spread throughout her before taking a very deep drink of her cocoa. Somewhere she had heard that police tended to give people warm drinks since the simple act of holding the mug of hot tea or coffee could make them more likely to open up. Emma had to hope that her father would find a similar effect. There were far too many questions she needed answers to.

“So…” said Emma, setting the mug down on the table.

Mirroring his daughter, David lowered his own cup of hot chocolate.

“Mom was a princess.”

With a sigh, David nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” demanded Emma, still unable to find a way to justify or even explain her father’s decision to keep all this from her. 

His gaze fixed pointedly in the direction of the blender, David said, “I thought it was for the best.”

It wasn’t hard for Emma to figure that much. “Sure, but why did you think that?”

“I was planning on telling you when you turned eighteen.”

“So you were going to ruin my eighteenth birthday by telling me my whole life is a lie,” Emma said, her eyebrows raising up. “Great birthday present, Dad. Suppose I should thank Grandfather for dying and Regina for taking matters into her own hands.”

David sucked in his breath and shook his head. “Maybe not on your eighteenth birthday exactly, but I wanted you to have a normal childhood, Emma.” He brought his mug to his lips and drank deeply, as if it contained liquid courage. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he had put some in it, but she knew that there wasn’t any in the house. 

“I could have still had one knowing the truth about Mom and me,” Emma said in a huff. “You could have been honest and told me the truth from the start.”

Shaking his head, David said, “Growing up knowing that you were the heir to the throne of a small country? What kind of a childhood is that?”

Emma shrugged her shoulders. “The English princes seem to have done just fine. Mom did just fine. Why did you think that I was any different?” 

David let out a long sigh. “After the accident… I… it was hard to know just what to do… I was in a foreign country with a newborn, grieving… I had just lost my wife, and I felt like I had no one. I had to leave. I could barely take care of you. I had to go home, back here.”

None of this was new to her so far. She had grown up knowing that her father had decided he had to leave Misthaven after having moved there a couple of years before with her mother, and he had gone back home to live with his mother, who had helped raise her. Some of her earliest memories in life had been spending the days with Grandma Ruth on the farm before she had sold it to someone younger who was more capable of managing the expansive fields and animals. “Yeah, I know all that,” Emma said. “You’ve told me before.” 

David tapped his fingers rhythmically, one by one on the mug for a moment before finally beginning. “I didn’t ever lie to you about your mother. I want you to know that. I simply left some things out.”

She leaned forward across the table. “That’s lying by omission.” 

“I know how it might seem like that right now,” said David shaking his head. “But sometimes it’s necessary to…” He let out a groan and took another sip of his hot chocolate with cinnamon. “I’m sorry, Emma.” 

The apology was good to hear, but it wasn’t enough to soothe her raging heart. It didn’t erase what she had been feeling ever since she had learned the truth. So many years of hiding the truth and the fact that he had allowed it to be exposed like this was just too hard for Emma to quickly forgive. She was still mad, and she still needed the truth. Besides that, Emma knew that there was little that her father could say that would make it better. The past was set. “So tell me the truth now,” she said. “That’s what I want. I want to know what is going on. Who the hell was Mom? Who the hell am I?” After all that had been revealed to her today from sources she wasn’t entirely sure that she could completely trust, Emma needed to hear from her father the truth. He had lied to her, and she wasn’t about to forget that, but Emma needed to hear the story from him. Despite everything he had kept from her, she trusted him far more than Regina. 

“She was a princess.” His voice held firm and steady. “And, you’re a princess, Emma.”

Hearing her father’s whispered answer, Emma felt like she had swallowed a rock instead of hot chocolate. There was no more room for denial or believing that Regina was trying to prank her. Her father might have kept some parts of the truth hidden, but he was right - he hadn’t ever outright told her something about her mother that was completely false. 

“When I met your mother, I didn’t know who she was. I couldn’t have even pointed to Misthaven on a map,” continued David. “Any way, by the time she was ready to tell me about her family and what her future was supposed to be, it was too late. I was already in love with her. I had already imagined us getting married, having kids, a whole life.” David shook his head. “I know that might sound silly, but I did. And I wanted that life with her. And when she told me… well… I was shocked to say the least. I didn’t believe her at first, but… your mother’s jokes were in good taste, and it was easy enough to confirm that what she was saying was the truth.” He took another drink from his hot chocolate.

While Emma wasn’t exactly sure when the internet became a big thing, she knew that her father wasn’t old enough for it to have not been a presence in the days when he and her mother were studying at Tufts. 

“I didn’t want the royal life. But I wanted a life with your mother,” David went on. “Any life with your mother, I was more than happy to have. I was willing to learn the rules and do what was expected of someone dating the crown princess. For her, I would have walked through fire if I had to.” His gaze fell to the table, and his voice trailed off.

Reaching out, Emma took a hold of her father’s hand.

Surprised, he looked up and offered a tiny smile. “When we found out that we were going to have you, we were extremely happy. Surprised and very happy. We both wanted to be parents, but we were young, and I was in a very strange land with only your mother. Your grandfather didn’t approve of me. I was just a farm boy from Maine who had eloped with his daughter on that same farm. I did my best to try to be on good terms with him, but when you know that someone doesn’t believe you are good enough, it is extremely difficult. Every time he looked at me, I could feel him comparing me to someone he would have rather his daughter marry. Some duke or prince or wealthy tycoon. Anyone but a hick from the States. And Regina didn’t make things easy for your mother, and the fact that she disliked me she never thought to keep a secret.” 

“That must have sucked,” said Emma.

“Not quite the word I would have chosen, but no, it wasn’t easy. But, I had your mother. No matter what was going on, I could always turn to her, and the rest would melt away. Her and you. I was so happy, and then the accident.” He sucked in his breath. “I had lost people before, but nothing compared to that. Everything was darkness, and other than you, I had no one. And I had to leave. There was no question that I could stay, and there was no way that I was going to leave you behind, even if that was what your grandfather wanted.”

A jolt of pain ran through Emma as she imagined her father’s grief and desperation, and then pictured the life she would have had if her father had chosen to go without her. It was enough to make her shudder. 

“And that was when Regina did something that truly surprised me,” David said. “She suggested that I leave, that you be raised however I felt was best, and that they would only have a distant role in your life, providing support as needed to give you a good life. I’m proud to say, I never had to take them up on that offer. But, it was there. I had assumed that she came up with this believing that there would be another heir soon. She was still quite young then, and I think that it was quite natural of her to prefer having her own child as heir to the throne rather than you. But, as you know, that didn’t work out the way she planned.” 

“And if it had, you swear you would have told me?” asked Emma apprehensively. 

“I promise you, you would have been told when you were ready.” Clearing his throat with a cough, David got to his feet. “I know that you probably still have questions, and there’s still a lot that needs to be said, but I have been talking for a very long time, and I’ve had a very long day.” 

There was so much that Emma wanted to ask still, but as her father walked away from the table and out the kitchen, Wilby following behind him, Emma had to bite back every last one. She looked down at the half drunk mug of hot chocolate, feeling her insides squirm and turn. Knowing that she was too upset to take another sip, Emma brought the mug to the sink and poured its contents down the drain. She stared out the window into the dark night and the stars above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you the read! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, however short it was. I felt like it really had to stand alone. The chapters after this shall be longer, I promise!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been beta'd by katealexandra26 over on Tumblr.


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